


Burn Away

by DoomedKelpie



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Burning, Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Imprisonment, Mental Illness, Near Death, Ozai’s A+ Parenting, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Sick Zuko (Avatar), Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26521168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoomedKelpie/pseuds/DoomedKelpie
Summary: It’s over. Aang defeated Ozai, and now they have to begin repairing the world after a hundred years of war. Representing the Fire Nation in this effort, the newly-crowned Fire Lord Iroh silently wishes that his son and nephew, both dead and gone, could have had the opportunity to experience a world after the war. Is it possible for his wish to partially come true?(I will update this eventually, but I’m busy with school and other fandoms right now. Sorry)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 251





	1. Suffering Will be Your Teacher

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy! This is my first ATLA fic. Like most of my previous fics for other fandoms, this thing is gonna be a ball of angst. So, be prepared for that.  
> Also, sorry if some things in this fic seem overdone. This is like the millionth ‘Ozai is a horrible parent’ fic lol.  
> Note: I do not necessarily agree with/condone things the characters say/do. Just wanted to make that very clear.

_ “You will learn respect.” _

_ “And suffering will be your teacher.” _

How many times had those words repeated in his head, echoing around his skull, getting louder and louder until he would do anything to make them stop? How many times had those words infected his nightmares, and just when his mind escaped from them, he found himself just as haunted in the waking world? How many times had he remembered those words and regretted his actions that led to them? And how many times had he remembered them and hated the man who spoke them, hated his father?

He wasn’t sure anymore. 

He wasn’t any more sure of how many times he played back the words than he was sure of how many days had passed here. Here, there were no windows and no sun, and no one would speak to him, so he had no way of knowing how much time had passed. At first, he had managed to figure it out by noting when he got tired, but without the sun to regulate it, his circadian rhythm was quickly thrown off. For all he knew, he now slept in the middle of the afternoon. He’d also tried to time it by when he was given food, but those times were so far apart that he fell asleep too many times between them to be able to really keep track. Sometimes, he’d be awake when they brought it, and other times, he’d awaken to find the bowl of rice already sitting by the door. He wasn’t sure if they just fed him at irregular times or if his new sleeping schedule just didn’t fit perfectly within the 24-hour clock anymore. 

Perhaps it didn’t really matter. Point was, he had no idea how long he had been here. He only knew it must have been a while, because his body grew taller, and his hair grew longer.

He also couldn’t firebend anymore, and that, he knew, was worse than not being able to tell time. Yes, he’d been terrible at firebending before all this, but at least he could do it. Now, there was nothing, not even a spark. He could remember the cruel laugh that echoed out of his father’s throat when he found out. He could remember how his father told him that he deserved it, that losing his firebending was the undeniable proof that he should have never been born. 

It was cold. 

As a small bit of mercy, Zuko sometimes found that a small candle and a few matches had been left along with his food. Of course, when this happened, it was always the times when the food was brought while he slept, and the items were always hidden away- somewhere he could find it, but never anywhere that the Fire Lord would bother to look during one of his visits. Not that he ever bothered to search Zuko’s room, though. What could he possibly have in there that could pose any sort of a threat? If Zuko ever tried anything, the guards could take him out in an instant.

Even still, Zuko knew that whoever was giving him the candles was risking a lot to bring him a small amount of comfort, and he always took great care to hide them away carefully and only light them shortly after father had left (that way, he knew the Fire Lord wouldn’t be back for a while… a while, but never long enough). 

Some days, the comfort of the candles was, ironically, the only thing that kept him alive. 

XXX

Iroh sat in the garden of the palace, taking slow sips of tea as he watched the sun rise. It was strange to think that, after all these years, not only was he back in the Fire Nation, but that he was the Fire Lord and the war lasting a century had finally ended. He’d left the Fire Nation for what he thought was for good after his son, Lu Ten, had died. He didn’t have the heart to continue fighting in the war anymore, and he didn’t have the heart to face his family that disinherited him the minute his son had died. Looking back on it now, at least the years of wandering had taught him about life and people and what the true costs of war really were. He only wished that it hadn’t taken the death of his son for him to realize what a monstrous fool he had been, what terrible things he and his family had been doing for decades. 

He sighed. Before this, he had considered returning home only once. Almost 4 years ago, he’d heard the news of his brother fighting an Agni Kai against his own son, Zuko. He’d been told why it happened, that his nephew hadn’t fought, and that his father had burned Zuko’s face. Then, Iroh had seriously considered returning and offering to take the boy away, hoping that Ozai would be glad enough to get rid of the boy he perceived as useless that he wouldn’t mind the questioning of his abhorrent parenting. But, just as he had been preparing to go, Iroh received the news that Zuko was dead, from an infection that set into his wound. 

At that point, Iroh felt no need nor desire to ever return to the Fire Nation. He was sure that, if he did, he’d have committed both fratricide and regicide at once.

Yet, here he was, sitting in the palace gardens and drinking tea as if nothing had happened and he never left. 

The war was over now. It was hard to believe even that, but the war that began long before he was born was finally over. Aang, the avatar, had defeated Ozai, and he hadn’t even needed to kill him to do it. And his niece, Azula, had been brought down along with him. Now, it was time for the world to heal. Part of achieving that was making Iroh become the new Fire Lord. At first, everyone, himself included, was wary of such a decision. They didn’t know how the Earth Kingdom would react to having the General that attacked Ba Sing Se being the ruler they had to stitch peace together with. But, in the end, Iroh was the only member of the royal family left that wasn’t dead, missing, or imprisoned, and most of the people of the Fire Nation wouldn’t be pleased by being assigned a ruler by the other nations. So, Iroh was the Fire Lord. He was enough of a Fire Nation royal to be trusted to have their people’s interests in mind, and he was now wise enough to want to seek out peace and reparations. 

He knew he wasn’t a perfect solution. Really, no one was. It would take a long time to fix his country’s mistakes, and he doubted it could even be done within the remainder of his lifetime. It might even take longer than the war itself for the world to be healthy again. 

But, he would get the ball rolling, and at the very least, he would do everything in his power to prevent any further suffering.

XXX

“... I can’t believe it’s finally over…,” Aang spoke quietly from his position on Appa’s back.

“Well, better believe it, Twinkle Toes, because that’s the 10th time you’ve said that today,” Toph responded. “Plus, it’s easier to enjoy it when you believe it.”

“I guess so.”

Their little group was, at that moment, stuck in a place between being glad the war was over and unable to believe it was over. After all, it had seemed almost impossible for them to win. 

And yet, they had.

For the time being, they were in the Fire Nation, at the palace. After Ozai’s defeat and the crowning of Iroh, Team Avatar decided that they would stick around to assist in peace negotiations. Of course, peace negotiations were going to begin in all of the nations soon, but they couldn’t be a part of all of them. There were plenty of more official ambassadors and such to do what they couldn’t. They decided it would be better to stay in the Fire Nation because having their group, the group that included members from all of the nations and the Avatar, would help reassure the other nations that the Fire Nation wasn’t going to just turn around and start the war back up again. They could trust that, if such a thing was attempted, that they would be able to stop it. Aang doubted that would happen with Iroh in charge, but he couldn’t deny the possibility of rogue generals disobeying orders. 

And so, they were staying here for the time being. 

And they had never been so relieved to be in what was once enemy territory. 

XXX

It didn’t take long for Sokka to get bored and decide to start exploring the palace. Sure, he was just as relieved and tired as anybody else, and he would normally jump at the opportunity to finally relax without worrying about attack or the war, but he just couldn’t. Ever since the war had ended, he’d felt restless and jittery. So, he decided that some good old-fashioned exploring would be a good idea.

As he wandered the halls, he was initially surprised at just how  _ empty _ they were. So far, he hadn’t run into any other person. It was like their group was the only ones in the palace, even though he knew that wasn’t entirely true. Then, he realized that the reason the palace was so empty was because most of its staff were either dead or had fled during the whole thing with Azula. 

This thought just made Sokka increase the pace of his exploring. Eventually, he found himself in a small wing of the castle that truly looked like no one had lived in it in a while. It wasn’t dusty or anything- of course the entire castle was kept clean- but it gave off the sense that those who cleaned it were the only ones who entered. Sokka pushed open the first door he found. Inside, it was a storage closet. He opened up a few more doors to find similarly boring rooms. He did note, however, that the rooms appeared to be residential. They were probably for some royal or noble to live in, and perhaps they just didn’t have anyone to live there at the moment. It wasn’t like the royal family was particularly large, even when it was more complete. 

At that thought, Sokka silently hoped that he hadn’t accidentally wandered into Lu Ten’s old quarters. He didn’t think Iroh would be mad if he did, but he didn’t want to accidentally bring up bad memories for the old man. 

Sokka pushed open another door and threw that thought away. This was obviously a child’s bedroom, and Lu Ten had gone to war; he wasn’t a child. At least, he wasn’t young enough to still have toys laying out in the open. 

Now able to be a bit more bold with his snooping, Sokka picked up one of the toys he saw on a shelf. It was a small, wooden turtleduck with wheels and a string attached to one end. The wheels were well-worn, and Sokka thought about that for a moment. Apparently, even royals and nobles had toys that they cherished and didn’t replace just for the sake of getting something new. 

Actually, maybe he was wrong about this being a child’s bedroom. Maybe it was the bedroom of a sentimental adult. But, no, there were childish drawings and lesson books on the desk in the corner, and in the closet he found, there were a child’s clothes.

Why was this child’s bedroom abandoned like this, left as a child’s bedroom instead of slowly morphing into that of an adult? Had its owner just moved into a new bedroom in another wing of the castle once they were older? Or, was the abandonment due to a darker reason?

Sokka didn’t know, but he found himself intrigued by the questions the room gave him. And as he continued to explore, he eventually tripped over the edge of the carpet and grabbed onto something as he fell.

“Oof!” he grunted as he sat back up. 

As he fell, he had apparently pulled some sort of rope. Instead of opening curtains or something, however, Sokka found that a hole had opened up in the floor, a flight of stairs leading down into the darkness below. 

“... I gotta say, I didn’t see  _ this _ coming…”


	2. Discovery and Panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> Sorry for taking a while to update. I had a big paper due.  
> Also, just to be clear, please don’t expect me to update consistently or constantly.  
> Sometimes, I’m in the mood to write a lot, and sometimes I’m not.   
> Even when I am in the mood, I have original stories and two other fics I’m working on right now.   
> So, even I don’t know when I’ll post the next chapter.

It had been  _ far _ too long since anyone brought him any food or water. His water jug, having never really contained enough water in the first place, had gone dry a while ago, and he hadn’t been given anything to eat in longer than that. However long ago either time he’d been given them had been. It must not have been too long, though, or he would be dead already. But that didn’t matter- time didn’t matter, not here. Right now, the only thing that mattered to him was whether he was going to get some water or not. 

As it was, he was laying on the floor of the room while it spun. He didn’t think he could move anymore, even if he tried. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and his limbs were heavy like lead, pulling him down toward the earth. He absently wondered, his mind having difficulty holding onto any one thought, whether an earthbender could bend his bones, pinning him to the ground and making him immobile like he was now. If he was an earthbender, and earthbender could bend bones, would he be able to make himself move with bending? His tongue felt so unbearably dry, and any attempts he made to wet it were pointless. He needed water. He wished he was a water bender. Surely, the damp air around him contained enough water that, if he could only gather it up, he could have something to drink. Maybe even an airbender, if there were any left, could somehow do something similar? Bend the air and the water hidden within it indirectly into a tight ball, maybe? 

Actually, being any kind of bender other than a firebender would be preferable at the moment because at least he would be able to bend- possibly even be able to use that bending to have escaped. Or would that not work? He thought he remembered something about waterbenders and the moon, so maybe they wouldn’t be able to bend in this windowless room either. Well, he was pretty sure earthbenders didn’t need windows, at least. And they would probably be able to break through the walls of this room. Yes, he wished he could be an earthbender.

His mouth was still so dry.

Was this it? Had his father finally decided to kill him, and decided that he would kill him as slowly and painfully as he could? He would have preferred execution at this point. At least it would be quicker, and likely, less painful. But no, his father wanted him to suffer, and he wanted him to face the cruel reality that, even as he was dying, he meant nothing to the world. He would die alone and ignored like the worthless thing he was. 

Maybe this was better. He was dying alone, but it’s not like he had anyone he wanted with him right now. Maybe it was better to not have to die in front of his father. In the end, maybe he could keep his final moments for himself instead of having even those taken away from him. Maybe this way, as painful as it was, wasn’t the most painful death his father could have inflicted on him.

Maybe... he should be glad it was finally over.

Just as he felt his vision darkening, he thought he could see the door swing open, but he didn’t have time to feel either hope or dread before he lost consciousness and slipped away into the darkness.

XXX

“Your Majesty!” 

Iroh looked up from his tea to find a frantic-looking servant approaching him at a fast pace. They seemed reluctant to come too close to him, still wary after the reigns of Ozai and Azula, but he could see them brace themself and come closer anyway. Whatever this was, it must be urgent.

“Yes?” Iroh questioned, trying to look non-threatening.

“My Fire Lord, the- the Water Tribe boy, he told me to get you and bring you to the infirmary,” they spoke quickly.

The infirmary?

“What? Is Sokka hurt?” Iroh asked, concern now seeping into his voice.

“N-No, Your Majesty,” denied the servant. “He-He found someone? And they were very ill? He-He told me to get you.”

Sokka found someone? Someone ill? Iroh wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the situation. Apparently, Sokka wasn’t hurt, and from the sound of it, no one else in their little group was either. But someone was. Had Sokka left the palace? Was it a servant? Why would Sokka ask for Iroh instead of just speaking to the healers?

“Very well,” he said, standing up. “Thank you for notifying me.”

The servant gave him a deep bow before scurrying off. Iroh, meanwhile, began to make his way to the infirmary, wanting to find out what exactly was going on. 

His footsteps were hurried, though not outright running, as he travelled down the series of hallways. Despite the large size of the palace, the infirmary wasn’t too far from the garden, and it took him only a few minutes to arrive.

Upon pulling open the door, Iroh was immediately faced with a distressed Sokka.

“Iroh! I was looking around and I found this wing of the palace and it seemed empty and then I found this room and I was looking around in there because it looked like a kid’s room and it was abandoned looking and then I tripped- entirely on purpose! And I somehow opened a secret door that led to a secret passage that led to a secret room and I opened the door, and I found this  _ guy _ in there, and he’s in really bad shape- like,  _ really _ bad- and it looked like he was dying so I brought him here, but  _ why was there a teenager being kept in a secret underground room _ , and I have no idea what’s going on!”

Sokka finished his anxious rant and looked at him like he expected Iroh to give him answers. Iroh, however, could only blink at him.

“... A secret room?” Iroh questioned back.

Of course, the newly-crowned Fire Lord knew that there were plenty of secret rooms in this palace. He, however, wanted to know which one Sokka was referring to, though none of them should have been in use at that time. Maybe it was a servant who hid during Azula’s short time as Fire Lord and accidentally trapped themself? If it was, it would have to be one of the rooms that the servants could feasibly access. If not, then this situation still had that unanswered question, but knowing which room it was might at least help shed some light on the situation.

“Sokka, what wing were you in?”

“I don’t know! It was small and abandoned looking! I think I turned left at the throne room?”

That... didn’t narrow it down very much. 

But, didn’t Sokka mention that it was a child’s bedroom somewhere in his rambling? There were no children living in the palace anymore who would have rooms that looked like a child’s. Azula was the youngest member of the royal family, and she would never take the insult of having a childish bedroom at the age of fourteen. But, abandoned rooms? 

Iroh had a feeling that he knew which room it was, and the feelings that accompanied that realization were hard to place. 

Instead of continuing to play twenty questions with Sokka, Iroh stepped past him and came deeper into the room, now needing to confirm the ridiculously hopeful idea that had just sprouted in his mind. It was ridiculous- they were in all likelihood just a servant- but if Sokka had found him in the room he thought he did, then a servant wouldn’t have been able to get through the complex system of locks, not without help. Being easy to enter defeated the entire purpose of that particular room, after all. 

As Iroh came closer, he could see a healer working on someone. The room was otherwise empty- after all, Katara had healed the injured servants already- so Iroh knew that the young man in the bed was the person Sokka had found. 

He inched further toward the bedside, his feet feeling heavy while his heart felt light and his mind desperately tried to keep itself from becoming too hopeful or too distraught. But the distance to the bed was short and Iroh soon found himself looking down at the young man, looking at his face.

The first thing he noticed was the scar covering most of the left side of the boy’s face. Then he noticed the long hair, the thin arms, and the way the boy’s body laid there almost completely motionless except for a slight rise and fall of his chest. But those observations didn’t give Iroh his answer. Finally, Iroh let his eyes wander to the unscarred side of the boy’s face, and as he looked past what must have been years of neglect, he recognized the figure in the bed.

Even through the years of passed time, the horrible scar, and through the sunken cheeks of hunger, Iroh knew it had to be him.

“... Z…  _ Zuko _ …?”

XXX

Sokka was freaking out, mostly internally, but some of his freaking was slipping into the outer world. He had found a  _ person _ trapped underground beneath some abandoned bedroom, and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do in that kind of situation. 

Who was this guy? If he was just a prisoner, they would have just put him in normal prison, right? But he wasn’t in prison… at least, not a traditional prison. And what was up with that scar? It looked old, but this guy didn’t look much older than he was. How young was he when that happened? Did it have something to do with the weird location of his imprisonment? Did the Fire Nation burn criminals like this? He didn’t remember seeing anyone else with a scar like this before, but maybe everyone who had one was in prison. It’s not like he’d ever spent time staring at the faces of prisoners in a Fire Nation prison before. But still, this  _ really  _ didn’t seem like normal imprisonment, even by Fire Nation standards. Seriously, what was going on?

When Sokka found him, it was pretty clear that the guy was in a bad way. This was made most obvious by the fact that the guy had been passed out on the floor. As he knelt down beside the teenager, Sokka quickly noticed that the guy was severely dehydrated. His chapped lips were slightly open, showing off his dry tongue, and his breathing was wheezy and fast, like the boy’s body was desperately trying to keep itself going, even though what it needed was water and not air. 

How long had he been down here, without water? Whoever brought it to him must have left. Couldn’t someone have at least left a note or something? Like ‘Hey, we have a teenager locked up down here, btw. It would be nice if you would water him every so often :)’ or  _ something _ ? Or was this like what the Fire Nation did to the waterbenders they captured, keeping them from all water except the tiniest amount to keep them alive? But no, the boy looked way too Fire Nation to be a waterbender, and what was the point of keeping water from a prisoner when they couldn’t do anything with it besides drink it? 

… Was it just simple cruelty? Sokka wouldn’t put it past the Fire Nation, to torture one of their own by witholding water. But they had ended the war a few days ago, so it wouldn’t have been Ozai or Azula ordering that he receive no water. So, it must just be that the servant who gave him water had left. 

Regardless, this boy had, one way or another, been condemned to die, even if unintentionally. If Sokka hadn’t  _ tripped _ , no one would have apparently known that the guy was down there. He would have died. For the sake of La, he might  _ still _ die because Sokka might not have found him in time to save him.

He watched as Iroh walked toward the bed and stared down at the figure lying upon it. He could see the old man’s face go through a series of emotions before finally settling on some hard-to-describe but nonetheless-heart-wrenching expression.

“... Z…  _ Zuko _ ?”

Iroh’s voice had managed to sound both heartbroken and hopeful, and so entirely filled with disbelief. The old man’s legs began to tremble, and he sank down to his knees beside the bed, gripping the sheets with tight, white fists. Sokka moved to stand behind him. He’d heard Iroh mention that name before, mention it around a campfire with a grim expression and eyes filled with grief.

“Isn’t… Isn’t that your nephew’s name?” Sokka asked.

_ Your dead nephew _ , he implied, now unsure if that particular adjective was accurate.

“Oh, spirits, how is this possible?” Iroh breathed out, not really answering him. “All these years, I’ve believed… I was told that… And now…”

Sokka didn’t think he had ever heard Iroh at such a loss for words. Given the present circumstances, he couldn’t really blame him. He placed a comforting hand on the older man’s shoulders, still unsure of what to do, when suddenly, Iroh’s face twisted in fury, a fury so strong that Sokka had to take a step back. Sometimes, it was too easy to forget that Iroh had once been called the Dragon of the West, but in that moment, it had been all too easy to remember.

“I didn’t think my opinion on my brother could get much lower,” Iroh growled. “It appears I was wrong.”

Sokka waited for Iroh to continue.

“First he burns him, and then he locks him away, telling the entire world that my nephew was dead?!” Iroh shouted, almost sounding like a sob. “How  _ dare _ he?!”

“So, that’s really your nephew?” Sokka asked warily.

Iroh responded with a short nod.

“It’s him… I know it’s him…,” Iroh confirmed. “Oh, spirits, if I had only known…”

Suddenly, the healer interrupted their conversation. 

“Please pardon my interruption, My Lord,” they cut in. “But would it be possible to bring the Water Tribe healer here? I’m afraid he may not make it otherwise.”

The healer’s tone was grim, and Sokka saw Iroh’s eyes widen with threatened tears.

“Right, Katara!” Sokka exclaimed, wondering why he hadn’t thought to get her earlier. “I’ll go get her! I’ll be right back!”

And with that, he bolted out of the room.

XXX

Katara had been trying to finally relax. The war was over now, and she wanted to have just a day or two to be happy about it before all the peace talks and difficult meetings began. It had been so long since she felt truly free to just do  _ nothing _ . Even before joining up with Aang, she hadn’t really been able to relax without feeling bad about it and thinking about how she should be doing something. But, they had just ended a war, and she thought to herself that, if helping the Avatar end the war and almost dying in the process didn’t earn her some free time, she didn’t know what did. 

And then Sokka came barrelling into the room.

“Katara!”

“Not now, Sokka…,” she grumbled, curling into the pillow she had been trying to nap on. 

“It’s an emergency, Katara!”

“... A  _ real _ emergency, or just something that you’re calling an emergency to make me listen to you?” 

“A real emergency!”

Katara had her doubts, but she sat up anyway.

“What is it, then?” she asked, unable to keep the slight irritation out of her tone.

“Uh, there isn’t really time to explain,” Sokka started. “But long story short, Iroh’s nephew apparently isn’t dead, but he might be if he isn’t healed.”

Katara stared at him, trying to process what he just said. 

“ _ Katara! _ ” Sokka called out insistently.

At that, she slipped out of bed and began following her brother out of the room and to the infirmary. She didn’t entirely know the story of what was going on, but she knew that someone’s life was at stake, and she wasn’t going to mess around. 

Almost as soon as they burst into the room, Katara got to work.


	3. Liminality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again. Not to be apologizing every chapter for the infrequent updates, but here we go anyway.
> 
> I had to return home to get bloodwork (and I have a really bad needle phobia, so I spent a significant amount of time just freaking out lol), and I was finishing a chapter of a comic I’m working on (so very time-consuming).
> 
> But yeah, here’s the next chapter.

For a long time, awareness eluded him. It was hard to tell whether the few snatches of sights and sound he thought he perceived were reality or only a dream. Assuming he was still alive. He might already be dead, and those little snippets were just the forgotten remnants of the life he lived. Or maybe they were glimpses into the world of the living. 

He didn’t know, but he actually hoped he wasn’t dead yet.

If this was death, it was nothing like the relief he’d expected.

XXX

_ It’s a long, long way… Come marching home… My flames burn for thee…  _

XXX

Something cool flowed down his throat, but it somehow moved in a way that kept him from choking. He wanted more of it, more  _ water _ , but he found himself floating in the darkness before he could even finish swallowing what he was given.

XXX

_ “You will fight for your honor.” _

_ No! _

_ “Rise and  _ **_fight_ ** _ , Prince Zuko!” _

_ No. _

_ “You  _ **_will_ ** _ learn respect.” _

_ No… _

_ “And suffering will be your teacher!” _

_ no… _

_ “I won’t fight you!” _

_ I couldn’t fight you… _

_ I  _ **_can’t_ ** _ fight you. _

XXX

As he finally faded back into full consciousness, the first rational thought he had was that he was surprised he had woken up at all. His second was that he was lying in a bed far more comfortable than his own. His third was that someone was sitting in a chair next to his bed. For one ridiculous moment, Zuko wondered if the past few years had all been a dream, and he was just waking up in the infirmary after the Agni Kai with his father. But no, his face didn’t hurt anymore outside of his memories. It was a scar…

_ But then why was he here? _

A rush of adrenaline suddenly flooded his veins as his mind tried to figure out what kind of danger he was in, what new type of punishment his father had decided to employ. And now that he was more aware, he could vaguely remember that someone had been opening his door as he’d passed out. Who was it? What did they want?

He, struggling, forced himself to sit up. As he did so, Zuko caught movement in the corner of his good eye, and as he turned his head to see it better, he saw that the door to the room was opening. A teenage girl walked in and, upon seeing him awaken, stared at him with what looked like relief.

“Oh, thank Tui and La, you’re alive!”

Well. Someone being glad he was alive was certainly new.

The girl came closer to him, and his attention was drawn back to the figure sitting beside his bed. He had forgotten about them.

“Iroh, he’s awake!” the girl said as she gently shook the figure. 

Wait.  _ Iroh? _ His uncle? 

Yes, now that he was actually looking, the figure did, in fact, appear to be his uncle. The man was a bit older than Zuko remembered, but he hadn’t seen his uncle for a few years even before the time he had spent locked up. It had to be him, though. He wouldn’t have forgotten his uncle’s face.

His uncle jolted awake ,and immediately, his eyes zeroed in on Zuko. Before Zuko could even think to say or do anything, Iroh rushed forward and pulled him into a crushing hug. At this, he felt another surge of adrenaline course through him as his anxiety shot up, and he tried flinching back and getting away. 

_ “Suffering will be your teacher!” _

Thankfully, Iroh noticed this and let him go just as quickly as he had grabbed him. 

“My apologies, nephew…,” Iroh spoke, his tone heavy. “I am just…  _ so very glad _ to see you again. I thought you were dead all this time, and I almost just lost you again…” 

Zuko took in a few deep breaths to calm himself. It was only his uncle. He liked his uncle. And apparently, his uncle hadn’t known he was alive, let alone where he was. That, at least, helped push away most of the bitter feelings he had stored up as he questioned why his uncle never came to save him. 

Beyond that, he was glad to see him. Perhaps uncle had finally come to rescue him, after all. Maybe he had saved him as soon as he had known he needed to be saved. Zuko opened his mouth to speak and found that his throat was still rather dry. The girl who had come in through the door seemed to have expected as much because she handed him a cup of water, which he drank down quickly. As he did so, he noticed that the girl was very obviously from one of the Water Tribes, though he wasn’t sure which. 

Asking about the Water Tribe girl would have to wait for now, though. Zuko tried to speak again, and this time, he succeeded.

“Uncle…,” he rasped, having not spoken for quite some time. “How… long…?”

He didn’t really finish the sentence, but his Uncle understood. The older man gave him a sympathetic look.

“It’s been… almost four years since…”

His uncle didn’t finish his sentence either, but Zuko, too, understood. He felt his eyes widen in shock. He had known that he had been down there for a while, but he had never thought that it would have been  _ that _ long. That would make him about sixteen now. He was sixteen now, and his father had kept him locked up for over three years. 

His hand, which was still holding the empty cup, began to shake, and Iroh wisely took it away. 

“Oh, Zuko, I really am so sorry,” Iroh repeated. “My brother told me that your wound had killed you. I never would have imagined he’d been keeping you in the bunker beneath your bedroom.”

Zuko tensed at the mention of his father and what he had done. Iroh saw this and dropped that line of thought.

“I can’t believe it’s really you,” he said instead. “You’re alive.”

Zuko nodded.

Yes.

He was alive.

XXX

Zuko hadn’t been able to stay up much longer than that, and he quickly slipped back into slumber. Iroh, meanwhile, was glad that Zuko was, not only alive, but getting better. He was out of the woods by now, and this brief conversation would be one of many to come. 

Katara placed a compassionate hand on the old man’s shoulder, and he turned his head to smile at the girl.

“Katara. I will never be able to thank you enough for helping to save my nephew,” Iroh told her.

She smiled back at him.

“Luckily, the most immediate problem was dehydration,” Katara noted. “And that I’m a waterbender.”

Iroh nodded.

XXX

The next time Zuko awoke, his uncle wasn’t by his bedside. At first, it seemed like the only other person in the room was the healer he could see writing at a desk. This assumption, however, proved to be false when a surprisingly young voice called out from his left side.

“Oh, you woke back up! Don’t worry, Iroh just had to take care of some things! He’ll be back in a bit!”

Zuko whirled his head around to face the source of the voice and found himself staring at a child. A bald child with arrow tattoos, but a child nonetheless. He blinked.

“... Who…?” he rasped questioningly.

“Oh! I’m Aang!” the boy replied. “I’m… um… a friend of your uncle!”

Zuko blinked again. This child was so incredibly peppy, and it was hard to wrap his mind around that after so many years of only hearing his father’s cruel voice. He half-expected the boy’s voice to suddenly grow deep and cold and hateful. But that was ridiculous. 

“So, you’re Zuko, huh?” the boy, Aang, continued. “It’s nice to meet you!”

Then, Aang put his hand out toward Zuko, and he flinched back before seeing that the boy had just been trying to shake his hand. He wasn’t anywhere near his face. It was fine. This was normal; this was a normal thing people did when they met someone, when they weren’t locked away in a place where they never met anybody to shake hands with. But the time his mind realized this, however, Aang had already retracted his hand.

“Oops! Sorry!” Aang apologized, rubbing the back of his head.

Zuko wasn’t sure what he should do or what he should say, but luckily, he was saved from having to figure that out by his uncle coming back into the room. The older man was carrying a tray, and he smiled when he saw Zuko. 

“Good morning, nephew!” Iroh greeted. “I thought you might want to eat something other than the broth we’ve been feeding you.”

At the words, Zuko suddenly remembered how hungry he was. Not as hungry as he had been before he’d passed out, but definitely hungry enough to accept the food his uncle handed him. The other occupants of the room were silent as he scarfed it down, uncaring of presenting proper manners at the moment. He was hungry, and this food was better than anything he’d eaten since before he was locked away. 

Once he was finished, Iroh took the plates and tray and set them aside.

“How are you feeling today, nephew?” Iroh asked him.

Zuko shrugged. 

“Ah.”

The room fell silent once more. Now that he was relatively hydrated, fed, and rested, Zuko’s head was clear enough to really appreciate the impossibility of the situation. He was, it seemed, really out of that room. As far as he could tell, this wasn’t a dream. No, you don’t fall asleep and wake up in dreams. He was awake. He was awake and free and alive and finally out of that room. But that gave him questions.

“Uncle…,” he finally muttered out.

Iroh looked at him with an expression that told Zuko he had been waiting for him to say something.

“What’s… going on…?” Zuko asked, not sure how else to put it without shooting off a hundred questions at once.

Iroh looked like he understood the unspoken questions regardless. 

“Zuko… I believe we have many things to discuss…,” the older man spoke carefully. “Are you sure you’re up for that discussion right now?”

Honestly, Zuko wasn’t sure if he was. For the moment, things were better than they had been in a very long time, but that still didn’t put Zuko in a very good place right then. But still, not knowing what was going on wasn’t going to help him. It would only make him worry and come up with his own explanations, which would likely be far from the truth. 

“... I need to know, uncle…”

Iroh nodded and turned toward the healer for a moment. The healer saw the look in the man’s eyes and stood to leave the room, understanding that this conversation was meant to be a bit private. The healer did, however, wait nearby in case he was needed, unknown to the teenager in the bed. Zuko thought that Aang would leave the room as well, but the boy stayed, merely moving to stand on the same side of the bed as the chair Iroh sat on.

He watched his uncle take a deep breath in.

“Alright… Zuko, some of what we are about to tell you may seem unbelievable, but I promise we are telling the truth,” Iroh told him. “And some of it may be very upsetting, so if you need to stop the conversation at any point and continue it later, just say something. Alright?”

Zuko nodded. 

“Good…,” his uncle sighed again. “I suppose I should start from the beginning. Nephew, this… is the Avatar, Aang.”

Iroh gestured at the young boy beside him, and Zuko felt his right eye widen in shock. The Avatar? Hadn’t he been missing for a hundred years?!

The two of them gave Zuko, who was clearly surprised, a moment to take that first bit of information in. When Zuko finally spoke, the question he asked wasn’t the one they expected, but it was certainly a question.

“Why aren’t you an old man?” Zuko asked, his head tilted in question.

“Ah. Well, I was kinda frozen in an iceberg for most of the century?” Aang answered. “So I’m still twelve, sort of? I’m almost thirteen now, though.”

Zuko blinked at the young boy, the young boy who was apparently the avatar.

“Oh, so that’s where you were!” Zuko exclaimed in realization before confusion took over his features once more. “But if you’re the Avatar…”

Iroh carefully placed a hand on top of one of Zuko’s, making sure his nephew didn’t flinch away from the contact. When Zuko only looked at him with that confused expression, clearly wanting an explanation, Iroh let the hand gently rest there.

“Zuko…,” Iroh spoke, his tone heavy with the weight of his words. “The war is over.”

At these words, Zuko froze, his entire body growing tense, and his eye widening even wider than before. 

“...  _ What _ .”

“The war is over,” Iroh repeated, a grim smile on his face. “It ended very recently, in fact. Only a few days before you were found.” 

Zuko blinked at him. Could the war truly be over? The war that had begun so long before he was born that there was almost no one alive who could remember a time before it? And if the war was over, what did that mean? What did that mean for the world, for him?

Seeing his nephew’s continued shock, Iroh decided he should give a bit more information.

“The Avatar and his allies have ended the war, and we are now beginning peace and reparation negotiations,” he said. “Far fewer people are going to be hurt now, Zuko.”

Iroh added in that last bit because he actually wasn’t entirely sure how his nephew felt about the war. Sure, before the Agni Kai, Zuko hadn’t seemed to care much about it, but the boy was still a Fire Nation prince, and he had never really had direct experience of what the war had done to the world, done to  _ people _ . He very well might still feel some kind of pride or something for his country that was fueled by his brother’s propaganda. No, Zuko had never experienced the cruelty of war. Instead, he’d had to experience the cruelty of his father. 

He saw Zuko nod.

“The war… is over…,” he mumbled, mostly to himself, it seemed.

Zuko went silent again for a moment, his expression becoming conflicted and upset and afraid. 

The air in the room grew heavy, weighing its occupants down with heavy lead and preventing them from breathing too deeply, lest the sound be too loud and break something. But the silence couldn’t last long, not when there was still so much to be said, and it was Zuko who broke it.

“Uncle… What…,” Zuko trailed off as he tried to force the words out from between his lips. “... What happened to my father…?”

Zuko was now even more tense than before, and his body was shaking slightly. His hand had curled into a fist beneath Iroh’s own. The teenager was staring resolutely down at the blanket that covered him, fearing what he would hear, though not entirely knowing what response he would fear the most.

Yet again, Iroh let out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand down his face. Had Zuko been looking at the man, he would have seen the rage that crossed over his features at the mention of the previous Fire Lord. Instead, Zuko heard it in his voice.

“... He’s alive,” Iroh gritted out, unsure if that would comfort his nephew or just increase his fear. 

Looking at his nephew and feeling the shaking intensify, they both got their answer. 

“But Aang removed his firebending, and he is locked away in a place that’s far away from here,” Iroh continued. “He will never hurt you again, Zuko. Never.”

Zuko looked up at his uncle, his normally-calm uncle, as he heard the anger in those words. The anger in those words scared him, and even though he trusted his uncle who had always been kind to him, Zuko felt afraid as he was faced with an enraged member of his family. Luckily, Iroh noticed and very quickly pushed his anger away for now. Just in case, he also removed his hand.

“I’m not angry at  _ you _ , Zuko,” Iroh spoke with gentle conviction. “I am angry at what your father has done, both to the world and to you. I will never hurt you, and I swear to the spirits that I won’t let anyone else, whether it be your father or otherwise, harm you so long as I can prevent it. And you never have to so much as see your father again if you don’t want to. Even if you do one day, I will make sure you are safe.”

Iroh gave Zuko a minute to calm down before he spoke again.

“Do you want to continue, nephew? We can finish this conversation later if you need a break.”

Zuko shook his head.

“No,” he denied.

He shook his head again.

“If… if my… father… is locked up, who is the Fire Lord? Azula?” Zuko asked. 

“No…,” Iroh responded. “As of a few days ago, I am the current Fire Lord. Though, Azula was Fire Lord for a brief time right before the war ended.”

“...  _ You’re _ the Fire Lord?” Zuko asked for confirmation.

“Yes.”

“... What happened to Azula?”

“Azula… Azula suffered a mental breakdown,” the older man explained. “She was captured and placed in a facility to treat her. Hopefully, the doctors there will be able to undo some of the damage your father did to her.”

Zuko had a hard time believing his uncle’s words. Azula didn’t have mental breakdowns. Azula was perfect, always perfect- and always lying- but perfect nonetheless. She wouldn’t show weakness like that. Had she changed while he was locked away?

“... Do I have to see Azula?”

Iroh had mentioned the possibility of him seeing his father one day. Zuko didn’t want to do that, and it seemed like Iroh didn’t want him to, either, but the man’s tone had been different when talking about Azula. Would he be expected to go see her? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to or not, at least not entirely. She was his sister, his little sister, but she was terrifying. He had difficulty remembering a time she wasn’t terrifying. There was a part of him that still loved her, but he didn’t want to even imagine how much more terrifying Azula might have gotten after three years and a mental breakdown. She’d already tried to kill him before, even if the attempts weren’t that serious. Would this older Azula try again, this time with more actual intention?

Iroh shook his head.

“Not if you don’t want to, nephew…,” he replied. “I’m sure this is all very difficult for you, and neither of you are in the best place at the moment. Even if you want to see her, I would suggest waiting a while. But if you don’t want to see her, no one will make you.”

Iroh rubbed at his chin thoughtfully.

“... I should probably tell her that you’re still alive, though. I certainly hope she didn’t know.”

Zuko shuddered, knowing that, even if Azula knew where he was and what was going on, and she likely had because she’s  _ Azula _ , that she wouldn’t have done anything about it. That she  _ didn’t _ do anything about it. 

“... Uncle, I… I don’t want to talk about this anymore…”

Iroh gave him a small reassuring smile.

“Of course, nephew.”


End file.
